


Magnificently Cursed

by winter_angst



Series: Twilight [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternative Universe - Twilight, Blood, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, M/M, Murder, Vampires, low calorie angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:41:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29187987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_angst/pseuds/winter_angst
Summary: Time. That’s what they had. Forever was a long time and nothing could hinder someone for that long. Even with their magnificently cursed existence.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Twilight [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2142930
Kudos: 7





	Magnificently Cursed

Snow misted behind them as they ran, their feet didn’t rest on the ground long enough to sift into the individual snow crystals. Jack wrapped an arm around Brock who rested his head on his shoulder as they watched their guests approach. Behind them a gable front home stood. Smoke curled from its chimney to maintain the image of humanity to neighbors. They were sparse around them but they took no risks. The coven had split up for their time in Utah. They had scattered across the state, distance no real conflict when it came to visitation. Today it was Clint and Natasha. They hadn’t dressed the part in the slightest much to Jack’s ire. Clint, burly and blond, was shirtless exposing his pearly torso, jeans hanging low on his hips. Natasha, slender and shapely with blazing red hair, was wearing a salmon lotus silk slip. Neither hadn’t bothered with shoes. 

“What happened to blending?” Jack asked dryly. 

They stopped in front of them, Natasha’s tresses settling as though they had never been blown out of place in the beginning. “It’s too cold for humans to venture out.” 

“Is it?” Brock asked, curiously. 

“Negative 16 celsius,” Natasha reported. 

Brock grinned. “I can’t believe I once thought that would be cold.” 

“Right?” Clint bounced on the balls of his feet. 

“What brought you guys out here?” Jack asked curiously. 

“We were in Ogden hunting and thought we might as well pay the lovebirds a visit. Make sure you two were still alive.” 

Jack snorted. “How  _ do _ you kill a vampire anyway?” Brock asked curiously. 

“Dismembered and burned.” Clint reported.

Brock shuddered and Jack glared at him. “What? He asked. How the hell do I candy coat that anyway?” 

“I’m fine,” Brock insisted. “I did ask.” 

Jack let his glare linger for another moment before he turned his attention to Natasha. “How rude of us not to have invited you two inside already.” 

“You’re slipping, Rollins.” she said, brushing a lock of her hair from her narrow face. “Come along, love.” 

The house was tidy and designed by Brock’s eye. They’d renovated it together despite their short stay. They only expected to remain for a decade, perhaps two, and then they would move on. But during that time it was home. They walked through the mudroom and into the kitchen. It was open and airy — a place where they didn’t have to hide in the shadows so they let in as much light into the house as possible. They went through the archway into the living room. Clint and Natasha claimed the loveseat immediately, fingers knotted together. They were timeless, the two of them. At one point it had baffled Jack how they didn’t eventually get sick of each other — Bucky and Steve included — but now he understood what it was like to be beside your best friend and know that forever laid in the future. It was a feeling of elation that couldn’t be replicated by anything else. 

Finally Jack  _ understood _ . “Can I offer you something to drink?” Brock mused. 

Clint laughed. Oh how they loved their human jokes. “Have you heard much from Steve and Bucky?” 

“They visited just last week after feeding in Salt Lake.” 

“You seem to be the after meal spot to visit — maybe that’s because you never visit us.” 

“We’re getting around to it,” Jack protested. “We just knocked down a wall to extend the master bedroom. We’ve been busy.” 

“I’m just teasing. Though we’ve done some remodelling ourselves. You should come see it.” 

Natasha folded one leg of the other, leaning back against the cushion as Clint burst out, “And we got a dog.” 

Her red eyes narrowed. “Clint.” 

“What?” 

“I told you we aren’t keeping it.” 

“Why not?” Clint demanded, turning his body to face her. “Bucky checked for a chip and he doesn’t have one. I’ve always wanted a dog… I think.” 

“See, you don’t even know.” 

“What’s the hurt?” 

“The  _ hurt _ is that we move around constantly. And dogs die, darling. I don’t want to put you through that.”

“I know they die,” Clint said. “But I don’t care. Bucky can take care of all the vet stuff.” 

“You can’t just volunteer him for a job like that,” she chided. 

“I’m not volunteering him, I just know he won’t mind. He likes animals. He’ll love Lucky.” 

“Clint, I told you not to name it.” 

“Too late. I don’t ask you for anything Natasha.” Natasha gave him an incredulous look and Jack felt like they were eavesdropping on a personal conversation. “Okay fine, maybe I do. But this means a lot to me, Nat. Please.” 

She exhaled heavily, taking her hand back. “Fine.” 

It was a grudging fine, a fine that assured them all that the fight was far from over. But Clint didn’t seem too bothered by it. He flitted over to them, phone out. “Want to see pictures?” 

It was a yellow lab, filthy and thin laying on a blue plaid blanket, long pink tongue spilling from its maw. “Cute,” Brock said, as was expected. 

Brock and Clint went through the photos and Jack and Natasha caught up. She talked about the renovations they had done and about the hunt they’d just completed. It was an ideal time to drink, the cold caused the core temperature to rise resulting in a hotter blood. The conversation alone lit a flickering flame in his throat. Perhaps it was worth it to go to Salt Lake City and hunt. Their time ran up around the time Clint ran out of photos and Natasha out of patience. Brock and Jack saw them to the door and they were gone, a flurry of snow trailing behind them as they ran across the open meadow. 

“We should get a dog.” 

“Don’t start.” 

Brock grinned and nudged him. “He looks so happy, what’s her deal?” 

“Natasha always has a reason,” Jack replied with certainty. “She’s always trying to protect Clint, maybe to a fault.” 

“Maybe.” 

“Are you up for a trip to Salt Lake City?” 

“Thirsty?” 

“You haven’t had blood until you’ve had blood from a cold human.” 

  * • •• •• ••



After they had drained a body apiece, they disposed of the bodies. Jack was riding a high mood, Brock coasting one similar and they walked down the near empty street with identical smiles. They were heading back to the car when a shout sent them a halt, good feelings draining away to a sense of dread never experienced before. 

“Brock?” 

Brock turned instinctively, as anyone would, but Jack wished he had the discipline to keep walking. He couldn’t fault him for the mistake though it had just created a dangerous complication. Jack inhaled, taking note of the scent of two humans in their immediate vicinity as he turned around to face them at the painfully slow human speed. 

“Grant?” Brock uttered, sounding just as bewildered as Jack currently felt. 

Over two thousand miles away from New York — what were the chances of Brock bumping into someone he knew  _ here _ ? They’d been careful back in Staten Island, keeping Brock to a borough considered too high brow for those in his previous life to venture. And it had worked beautifully. But now it was all coming undone because of this Grant. The friend Grant that Brock had lunch with back when he was human. The human Brock had told he was moving to Greenland. 

The bundled up human jogged across the empty street another trailing behind with notable hesitance. Whoever it was, they didn’t know Brock. Jack snuck a look around for witnesses. There was a bright store front open however making it an inopportune striking point if Brock agreed that a risk like this needed to be dealt with immediately. 

“Brock,” the human pushed his hood back, exposing dark hair and rosy cheeks. For a human he was quite good looking. Jack was suddenly unhappy Brock had gone to lunch with him. “...Brock?” 

He had gotten close enough to see Brock up close now and he stared openly. Brock shifted his weight, a human action he had perfected. “Grant,” he said. “Hi.” 

“I...I thought you were in Greenland…” Grant was still staring and his companion looked both shocked and unhappy. “Wow, what’s in the water there? You look amazing.” 

Jack’s hands tightened. He didn’t like a human looking at what was his, even if he was covetting it. Grant’s attention turned him next and he took a step back. Jack knew he was glaring but he didn’t feel the need to temper his reaction for the sake of a measly human. “Uh, I’m Grant.” 

Such a human move, trying to greet hostility with politeness. “Jack.” 

Brock heard the tone and nudged him gently. As much as Jack wanted to make it clear how he felt about the way Grant was looking at Brock he was powerless when it came to Brock. He softened his eyes and forced a polite smile. The other human cleared his throat. Grant looked guilty. “Oh, this is my boyfriend, Nate.”

Tension in Brock’s shoulders melted a bit and he turned to the second human with a disarming smile. “Nice to meet you, I’m Brock.” 

“Like  _ the ex _ Brock?” he asked incredulously. “You didn’t tell me he looked like  _ that _ .” 

Grant flushed and Brock glanced at Jack. There was panic hiding behind his contacts and Jack wasn’t sure what to do. “I… He didn’t,” Grant said finally. “I mean, you look great.” 

Nate scoffed angrily and Grant tried to backpedal. If things weren’t so grave it would have been amusing to see Brock’s ex drown the way he was. Things were entering a dangerous territory. “Thanks so do you.” 

Jack frowned. Did he mean it? A gust of wind picked up and both humans shuddered. Brock did so too, a moment too late but the humans were too distracted by his beauty to miss little things like that. “Want to get coffee with us?” Nate demanded. It lacked any friendliness, clearly something meant to be refused. 

But Grant was too taken by Brock to read the tone. “Yeah, yeah coffee’s a great idea. I’d love to hear about Greenland.” 

“I’m sorry we have plans,” Brock lied smoothly. “It was great to see you again.” 

“Let me give you my number -- ”

“We really have to go.” Brock started to walk away. “Stay warm, Grant.” 

The humans watched them go, Nate’s heart racing with fury and Grant clearly questioning what he’d just seen. They made it back to the car and Brock exhaled heavily. “They’re a liability.” Jack said immediately. 

Brock glared daggers at him, a look to rival the one he had directed at Grant. “You’re not going to touch either of them.” 

Jack blinked through his contacts and started the car. “I had no idea you were so protective of your  _ ex.  _ In fact I was under the impression he was just a friend.” 

“He was just a friend after we broke up.” Brock shook his head. “It was so strange seeing him. Like… Like I had dreamed him up and could hardly recall it.” 

“Human memories fade,” Jack wasn’t quite over his vexation but he still felt a stab of guilt. A better man would have seen that interaction and realized what he’d taken from Brock, all Jack could think of was protecting what he deemed his. “I’m sorry I put you in that position.” 

“You didn’t put me in any position.” Brock retorted. “Just a crazy turn of fate is all. It’s still so strange to feel it all going away. I’m afraid I’ll forget about us meeting.” 

Jack frowned. Would he? Clint recalled the emotions, not the particulars. “We’ll make new memories if those start to fade.” 

Brock looked at him and smiled, but it was sad. “Thank you.” 

  * • •• •• ••



Inspired by Natasha and Clint, and desperate to distract from what they’d just experienced, they went to visit Steve and Bucky. They lived in Springdale, tucked miles away from their neighbors. They still drove up, faith in the clouds waning as they started to thin. It was a split-level home with slate gray vinyl siding and asphalt shingle roof capped in white. Like Jack and Brock they had smoke billowing from the chimney the way any human would. As they parked Bucky and Steve stood in the doorway of their home, awaiting their arrival. They certainly looked the part if one was able to look through their ethereal perfection, Stve in a plaid sweater and Bucky in a pale chunky cardigan. 

“Jack,” Steve said warmly, stepping forward to take his hand. “Brock, welcome.” 

“We thought we’d stop in for a visit.” Brock said.    
  


“Come on in.” Steve invited and they stepped aside to let them through. Brock and Jack shrugged out of their coats hanging them beside Bucky and Steve’s. “What spurred your visit -- not that I’m not happy to see you.” 

“We were hunting in Salt Lake.”

The door opened into a foyer, the walls tan with beige trim. Steve liked things simple, it reminded him of the 40s. The foyer opened up into a living room full of muted colored furniture and a vaulted ceiling. A great wooden bookcase took up one entire wall, packed with books collected during their second life. A record player sat in the corner beside a shelf chalked full of 40s albums, classical composers, and a few modern alternative artists that were clearly Bucky’s. Steve guestered to the couch and the two sat. 

“Was hunting good?” 

“Very good, thank you for asking.” Jack said, leaving out the part where Brock was recognized. That would just apply more pressure on Brock about taking care of the risk it’d created. “Natasha and Steve came to visit us this morning.” 

“I take it Clint told you about the dog he found?” Bucky asked.

“He did. It sounds like he finally beat Natasha down about it.” 

Bucky laughed and Steve smiled. “That happened faster than I expected. Certain things stick with you from your human life and his love of dogs might be one of them.” 

Brock smiled but it was ghosted with the previous interaction. He was thinking about Grant, thinking about his human life and thinking about all he was forgetting and would continue to forget. Jack wished there was more he could do seeing as he had caused it but all he could do was take Brock’s hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. Whether it helped or not he wasn’t sure. Bucky talked about a mastiff with a twisted stomach that had come into the clinic last night and Steve shared that he had used his night off to hunt. Normal vampire things, nothing dangerous or earth-shattering. Everything as plain as their life had been prior to that impromptu trip to satisfy a thirst that Natasha had kindled. 

If they hadn’t they too would be at ease. Instead Jack was sitting on a worry he would eventually have to disclose. Grant would ask around, such things were only human, and he’d come looking for Brock. Curiosity was part of human nature. It was a conversation that would have to be had eventually regardless of his stance on the matter. One life couldn’t stand before the rest. Jack wanted to laugh at the sheer irony of the situation. When it was Brock’s life on the line he had fought tooth and nail for him -- would Brock do the same on behalf of this ex of his? Did he regard his life to the same value Jack had held Brock’s? 

Their visit ran up and Steve and Bucky saw them out. The car ride was quiet and Jack had a feeling that Brock knew exactly what awaited him. “No,” he said head turned toward the window.

“It’s dangerous, Brock.” 

“I don’t give a damn. I’m not going to kill someone who used to be my friend.” 

“You were more than friends,” Jack couldn’t help but say though he knew it would undermine every point he would make. 

“Oh please.” 

“You told me he was your  _ friend _ not your ex.” Jack reminded him as he hit his turn signal bitterly. “Regardless, we don’t have a choice.” 

“He’ll forget about me,” Brock argued but it was a weak argument and he knew it. 

“No one who sees you can forget about it, Brock.” He was too perfect, too beautiful to ever fade from memory. “I’m sorry but we don’t have much of a choice.” 

“We could turn him?” 

“I’m not about to take care of your ex for the foreseeable future, Brock. No.” 

“He’s got a name you know. He’s a person, not just my ‘ex’.” Brock said bitterly. “But I guess it doesn’t much matter what I think, does it?”

Jack wasn’t going to bowl over him, as attractive at the idea was, and he shook his head. “I’m not making an executive decision here, Brock. If you’ve got another idea, feel free.” 

“I’ll go see him again.” Jack’s head whipped around to stare at him. Brock sensing the urgency in his gaze simply turned to look at him. “Satisfy his curiosity.” 

“I don’t like how he looks at you,” Jack’s eyes returned to the road though his hands tightened on the wheel. 

“I don’t like how people look at you all the time. And yet  _ I  _ know how to behave.” 

Jack tried to smile but failed. He didn’t want Grant to lay eyes on him again, wanted to keep Brock all to himself. He was avaricious when he was human and nothing had changed. “It’s different,” Jack grumbled because it was but he didn’t know how to explain how. “If you’re planning on tracking him down, I’m coming to.” 

“That’s an awful idea.” 

“It’s non-negotiable.” Jack grit out and Brock sighed but didn’t argue. 

Night fell on their home as they moved around restless. Brock cleaned despite it already being spotless, going through the motions while he sorted through the intended interaction tomorrow. Jack had learned that Grant was a P.E. teacher back in New York so he would only be visiting for a long weekend. It gave him a limited time frame to smooth over their initial visit. He was tense and Jack tried to soothe him but Brock wasn’t very receptive. 

“Stop treating me, I'm in crisis or something,” he complained as he ran the duster around the mounted TV. “It’ll be dealt with and things will be fine.” 

“And if your plan doesn’t work…” 

“Then we go to yours,” Brock said with clear agitation. “But it will. I know Grant.” 

“You just said yesterday you hardly remember him.” 

“It’s coming back to me,” Brock said defensively. “It’s getting more and more clear the longer I think about it.” 

Jack wondered if that was true or not but he didn’t press it. He dressed for work, heading to Taylorsville. 

  * • •• •• •• 



When he returned Brock had changed his clothes and was waiting anxiously for him. “It’s too early,” Jack reminded him immediately. 

“I  _ know _ but we’ll have to find his scent. That’ll take time.” 

He had a good point but he was still overeager. They wouldn’t go down to the street and start sniffing around. It was still cloudy by some unfortunate turn of fate, Jack hoped a sunny day would dash his plan and give Jack an excuse to eliminate the threat his way. Such luck wasn’t on his side. Brock twitched and paced until a reasonable time for human activity came around. The ride to Salt Lake City was quiet until Brock said, “If things go poorly…” 

“You won’t have to lift a finger.” 

Brock cringed as if the sheer idea caused him pain. “He was a big part of my life once. Not as big a part as  _ you _ but…” he trailed off, eyes on the blurred scenery. “And I can hardly remember it. I feel like I’m doing him a…disservice.” 

“A disservice?” Jack couldn’t help but laugh at his choice of vocabulary. “You’re saving his life, here Brock.” 

“Maybe,” Brock reminded him. “If things go alright.” 

At that Jack’s eagerness towards things going wrap wrapped him heavily in guilt. Brock was still so human, so  _ good _ , he of course wanted an deathless outcome. It was in these moments that Jack had to address how much of a monster he’d become. Brock was his connection to humanity, the thing that saved him from being a soulless monster. He suddenly resented how his first instinct with Grant was the death of him; how quickly he had decided the human had to die because he recognized Brock. Perhaps the reasoning had laid in the way he looked at Brock, looked at something that was Jack’s and Jack’s alone. 

“They’ll go fine,” Jack assured him. “We’ll have coffee, satisfy his curiosity, just like you said. He’ll return home with stories about how incredible you look and that’ll be the end of it.” 

_ Hopefully. _

Brock nodded his head but his teeth still worried his bottom lip. Jack reached over to squeeze his hand. Brock squeezed back. They were going to figure it out. It was a hiccup in their Utah lives, a miscalculation that required new balancing. But once the calculation was corrected and peace was restored they’d go back to their simple life blending in with humans as though they belonged. As though they weren’t dangerous creatures that threatened their lives. It had been a while since Jack had been so pessimistic and he gladly tacked the blame onto Grant. He was an unexpected complication Jack was free to hang all frustrations upon his imperfect human shoulders. 

Jack parked and overfed the parking meter to give them ample time to hunt down Grant and his companion whose name already escaped him. It wasn’t easy, exactly as expected. Salt Lake was a big city that saw a lot of traffic. The scents were all muddled together, the beating of dozens of hearts all at once, the warmth of many bodies brushing past them. His body ached to go into hunting mode — he never called upon his senses in this way until he was looking for his next meal. Brock was getting worried, looking around as if he hoped to see them appear miraculously in the crowd. Time ticked by them and Jack had to face the possibility that they had left the city early. 

“We could go to the hotels,” Brock said too quietly for the human ear to pick up. “The lobbies can only have so many scents.” 

“Brock,” Jack said with a subtle head shake, “I think he might be gone.” 

Panic crept into his eyes, muscles coiling. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “No it’s a long weekend.” 

“His friend didn’t look too happy with his reaction to you,” Jack reminded him. “Maybe they packed it up early.” 

“But that means that you’ll have to…” he trailed off looking broken hearted. “Oh, God.” 

Jack didn’t know what to do. The search was hopeless at this point and as much as he hated to see Brock distraught he took his elbow and led him back to the car. They’d been gone too long and there was a ticket tucked beneath his windshield wiper. Jack suppressed a sigh and pocketed it. The ride was quiet and when they returned home Brock locked himself in the bathroom and he heard the shower running. Jack would have to get his address from Brock once he emerged and finish a job he once had anticipated but now dreaded.

  * • •• •• ••



Brock didn’t say anything when he returned home. He didn’t ask about Grant so Jack didn’t mention that the other man had been a live-in boyfriend. Both their bodies were under a boulder in the bay and would remain there while the police eventually conducted a fruitless search for them. Brock’s silence wasn’t icy, he didn’t fault Jack for what he did, but it was lament. He had hardly remembered the man and yet his death impacted him so. Jack’s compunction was rivaled only by its effect on Brock. Going to work became a bit of escape from the culpability. He’d done what had to happen and he’d taken no joy in it, but it was still on his hands. The cumbersome situation eventually drove him from the melancholy home to Natasha and Clint’s Chalet in Huntsville.

Natasha welcomed in and picked up on his disposition immediately. Clint was less perceptive and instead proudly displayed a one eyed yellow lab he recognized from the photos. It had gained some weight and its coat looked healthier. Jack had yet to meet a vampire with a pet so he found it fascinating the hints of humanity that were carried into the second life. It quickly sombered him however, reminding him of a grieving Brock. 

“We’re going for a run.” Natasha reported in a polite way of letting Clint know he wasn’t invited. 

The blond didn’t seem to mind, delighted in watching the dog gnaw on a rubber ball. They ran to the Pineview Reservoir. It took a few minutes, minutes that Jack used to mull over the situation. He didn’t know how to rectify it. No matter what he did or said Grant was dead. There wasn’t anything he could do to fix that now. They stood at the western edge of the Reservoir, gazing at its mirrored surface, thin ice formed around the edges. 

The air was still and silent Natasha broke it with, “What happened?” 

“A person from Brock’s previous life saw us.” 

Natasha inhaled sharply. This was the trouble with newborns, people who remembered them were still alive and running into one risked exposure. “I’ll handle it,” she said. 

“It’s been handled.” 

Natasha looked forward again, tension melted from his body. “Brock isn’t taking it well.” 

It was a statement, not a guess, because Natasha knew everything. “No, no he’s not.” 

“You did what you had to,” Natasha reminded him and Jack knew better than to disclose their initial plan. She would enthusiastically disapprove. “He’ll come to understand that.” 

Jack pressed his lips into a thin line and scented the air. He could hear the heartbeat of small animals in the treeline and insects moving all around him. Snow had begun to fall, a snowflake here and that Jack could see with incredible detail. He could make out every individual unique crystal as it fell and he watched it as he tried to let the weight of what he’d done slip from his shoulders. That was why he’d come after all, to have someone pat him on the back and make him feel better. Why wasn’t it working? 

“It crushed him, Nat.” 

“Of course it did but he’ll get past it in time.” 

Time. That’s what they had. Forever was a long time and nothing could hinder someone for that long. Even with their magnificently cursed existence. Jack closed his eyes and let the snowflakes fall against his skin. They were the softest of a brush, only registering when he focused completely on them. At one point he would have felt it without focus. They would have been cold and Jack warm. They would have melted against flushed skin, turning to tiny droplets of water quickly evaporating. Now he was cold and they simply rested against them, sliding off as he straightened his neck from the tilt backwards. 

“It could last for a very, very long time.” Jack replied. “It kills me to see him this way.” 

“As it should.” Natasha reached out to rest her hand against his upper arm. “Perhaps a distraction would help? We could come by — ”

Jack shook his head. He knew Brock would play it up but hate it. Jack wished Brock would blame him, make him out to be the monstrous villain who had stolen innocent lives. At least then Brock could be angry. Anger was easier to overcome than despondency. He wished they had never ventured to Salt Lake City. He wished he could shoulder the blame onto the vampire beside him — had she not come with her reminder of the toothsome warm blood cold temperatures guaranteed he wouldn’t have fed for at least three more days. But she had spurred him into gluttony and landed them into this situation. But even in his head it was unfair; there was no one to blame for an ill turn of fate. 

Life had led them there just as it had led Jack to Brock. 

“I’m here if you need me.” Natasha reminded him, sliding her hand to take his. 

He looked down. It was almost laughable, her dainty hand in his larger one. But the funniest part but was not the size but the sheer strength. Jack was fairly certain Natasha was stronger than he was, not that he’d ever willingly test it. She fought dirty. “I know. Thank you Natasha.” 

They both heard the heavy thumping of a couple of snowshoers a few miles away and Natasha looked at him. “Some blood might cheer you up.” 

Jack hadn’t had the heart to drain Grant and his companion. As he left he’d considered it a waste but he felt doing so would have been a betrayal of Brock. Jack could smell their warm bodies, hear the blood pulsing through their veins. “Lead the way.” 

They ran for the first two miles and leapt into the trees for the last one, jumping from bough to bough as they caught up with them. There were two men and a woman, all had ponderous packs attached to their backs. Natasha looked at him and grinned, all teeth. She leapt off the branch of a fir, flipping through the air until she landed in front of the woman leading the venture. Jack rolled his eyes. Despite her age she enjoyed playing with her food whenever she got the chance. The actual death she was merciful about when she got the chance to frighten, she took full advantage. Jack jumped down his perch and landed behind the man taking up the rear soundlessly. He was none the wiser of the threat behind him, too shocked by what he’d just seen. 

Natasha stood out starkly in a pair of lowrise jeans and a dark scoop neck tee. The dark color made her appear frightfully pale and her smile was equally unnerving. The humans were frozen, their brains trying to find sense in what they’d seen. A rational expectation,  _ logic _ in what they had witnessed. Finally the woman spoke. She was bundled up against the cold, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. She smelled of dark chocolate and anise but she was closest to Natasha which staked her claim. Jack would make due with the man in front of him who was no less appealing, smelling of molasses and cloves. 

“Did you just fall out of a tree?” she asked in a strained whisper, already knowing the answer. 

They couldn’t run, they were hindered by the burden strapped to their feet. Natasha’s grin only grew exposing more of her perfectly white, razor sharp teeth. “I jumped.” 

The woman opened her mouth to scream but Natasha moved faster, the sound of her neck breaking cracked across through the woods. A flock of finches took off from the trees. Jack grabbed the male nearest him and Natasha took care of the middle one. They were all dead in the span of a second and a half, sprawled out in the snow. Jack and Natasha wasted no time before they fed. Their thirst was soon satisfied and Jack tossed the two men over his shoulder carrying them back to the Reservoir. He waded deep into the water and stowed up under a rock, his go to for body disposal as of late. Natasha followed suit and soon they were back to staring at the glassy surface, perfectly silent. The blood in their stomach was being absorbed into their muscles which elevated his mood a bit despite the dismal situation he was facing. 

“Feeling any better?” 

“A bit.” 

“I suppose that’s as good as we’ll get.” Natasha said. She held out her hand. “Walk me home, please.” 

How she went from an apex predator to her usual self was a marvel. Jack held out his arm and she rested her hand on it. They walked back to her home, unhurried. Night had fallen by the time they arrived and Jack hoped Brock wasn’t too worried though he doubted he would have noticed or cared considering everything. Clint was still fawning over the dog and looked up excitedly when they walked in. 

“Lucky had his very first bath and he did a very good job, didn’t you boy?” 

Natasha sighed fondly and Jack smiled. “I should get home.” 

“Yes. If you need anything you know where I am.” 

“I know, thank you.” 

Jack drove the speed limit home and pulled into the garage. The lights were on -- Brock had remembered that at least. He cringed at his own thoughts, they sounded too harsh. Brock had every right to grieve and to take all the time he needed. There was no shortage of time, after all. He had to live with knowing what happened to Grant forever. It hadn’t happened in his human days, it happened when he had perfect recall. He would remember every second of what he was feeling. Jack had to accept that he couldn’t fix things; that Brock would recover in his own time and until then Jack’s only job was to be there for him. 

And that was a job he’d take seriously. 

Brock didn’t seem to have noticed his absence, still in the armchair gazing at the same spot in the wall. Jack wanted to sigh but he didn’t. He walked up behind, rested a hand on his shoulder and kissed the top of his head. 

“Did you have a good time with Natasha?” 

Jack blinked, surprised to hear him speaking to him again. “Uh, yes.” 

“I’m glad.” Brock said, sounding genuine. “I’m sure I’m being unbearable.”

Jack had no idea his absence would have launched life back into Brock but he was just happy to hear his velvety voice again. “You’re not. I was worried, is all. Natasha reminded me that it takes time to…”

“Get over it?” he asked hollowly. 

“Recover,” Jack corrected. 

“I’m recovered, Jack. Grant was… He was a friend, I think. It’s just so murky now and I hate that. This man is dead and I can barely remember who he was. A life extinguished and I know nothing about him except that I once loved him. I don’t  _ remember  _ loving him but I must have if we were together. It’s just so strange. I’ve been trying to make sense of it all but I can’t and it frustrates me.” 

Jack rounded the chair and crouched taking his hand. Brock looked at him, eyes dark. He’d been neglecting his thirst through his time trying to get over what had happened and Jack wanted to confront that but it wasn’t the time. Brock was opening up, giving Jack a chance to understand. There was time to fret later. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Of course all of this came back to Jack. None of this would have happened if Brock was still alive. Two more lives would have carried on. Brock wouldn’t be grieving the way he was now. “Don’t apologize,” Brock sighed. “It’s not your fault. It’s bad luck, I suppose.” 

Bad luck. Yes, it was that and so much more. Jack took his hand and ghosted his lips over the back of it. Brock urged him up off his knees and drew him in for a kiss. A proper kiss that felt heavenly after nearly a week. He felt a bit of tension leak from Brock’s body. It wasn’t gone completely, Brock was far from healing completely — and there was a risk he never would considering its impact on him — but it was something and Jack was thankful for that. 

Things weren’t perfect, and they never truly could be, but they were going to be okay.


End file.
